by Rene Fomby
“We are. As you know, we held back our acolytes in Turkey, particularly in Istan—er, I mean New Rome. They will be ready later tonight to keep the authorities busy while we execute the final phase of the move.”
“Excellent. I like that idea. Is there anything else?”
“Well, yes, Sire. It is a minor thing, but I needed to make sure that you were aware—”
“Yes, out with it!”
“Well, we won’t be able to move the entire palace at once, Your Grace. This entire operation demands the utmost in secrecy, and, well, if we try to bring all of this with us …”
“I understand fully, and Boucher and I have already had this conversation. I would have thought he’d have made you aware by now. This base is not going anywhere, so simply prioritize what we can’t live without, and leave everything else as it is.”
“Including the girl?”
“Including her. Actually, if I don’t hear from Boucher in the next few days, she will stop being a problem for anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will take care of it personally, as soon as you are tucked safely away in the new palace.”
“That would please me very much. Thank you.” He rubbed his head, feeling the familiar symptoms starting to reemerge. “Good job, Duval. Now, leave me. I must get some rest. Tomorrow promises to be a very busy day.”
As Duval left, shutting the door to Constantine’s private chambers behind her, the emperor felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over him, along with a steady pounding in his head. Startled, he retrieved the Nanteos Cup, and, filling it with holy, purified water, took a long draught. Immediately he felt better, as the healing qualities of the cup took over. He replaced it in its special niche in the wall, then staggered to his bed, exhausted. Tomorrow promised to be a very busy day, indeed.
84
Adriatic Sea
Istanbul? Sam’s eyes shot toward Carlo Rossi for confirmation.
“No, we haven’t received any indication of trouble anywhere else in Turkey, either,” Rossi noted, speaking louder than was necessary to be heard over the speakerphone. “But couldn’t that just be a factor of the repression and everything else going on out there? And as I understand it, most of the Chi Rho symbols in Istanbul were inside the new wall the government has erected around the Old City. Maybe the wall was a limiting factor, as well.”
“Could be,” Gavin agreed. “But still, you’d expect something, given the level of violence we experienced everywhere else.”
Sam spoke up, nodding. “I think you’re right, Gavin, there should have been something, even if it was pretty small. And after all, even with the Turkish repression of protests and everything, we still hear about minor clashes with the police and other authorities almost every day. So I think you may be on to something.” She drummed a pen on the knuckles of her left hand, thinking. “You know who might be able to give us some good insights into all this? Mehmed. He did all the original analysis on the Chi Rho stickers, and Istanbul is his home town.”
“That’s a great idea, Sam!” Gavin’s enthusiasm for Sam’s suggestion came through the speakerphone loud and clear. “Is he still stuck in that hospital in Rome?”
“No, we had to evac him out, when the government and everybody else abandoned Rome. We moved him up to my castle in Siena. Carlo?” she asked expectantly.
“No, he wasn’t in any shape to be moved last night, so we had to leave him behind. But I put an armed detachment of soldiers all around the castle, to protect the grounds and everyone inside. All the staff. I figured it was the least we could do for you under the circumstances.”
Sam smiled her thanks, then returned her attention to the phone. “Okay, I had planned to drop in on him anyway, before this last batch of trouble hit us. Unless you’ve got something else going on, Gavin, what say we meet up in Siena and go over your analysis with him in person. After that I can catch a flight out to check in on Maddie.”
“I’m already out the door, Sam. I’ve still got my overnighter packed from the trip out to see the priest in Toledo. I’ll get Sanders to book me on the next flight heading your way.”
“Super. Why don’t you plan on landing at the airport in Pisa, Galileo Galilei? I’ll meet up with you there, and we can make the short hop over to Siena together.” She looked up at Rossi. “You want to tag along?”
“I wish I could,” he answered solemnly. “But I can’t leave my post here. Besides, I don’t really have anything to add to any of this, I’d just get in your way. But I’d appreciate a catch-up call as soon as you find anything out.” Standing, he jabbed a finger toward the door. “But by all means, go! There’s a helicopter already on the pad, all fueled up and ready to launch at a moment’s notice in case I had to make an emergency trip somewhere. I’ll call upstairs and let them know to give you a ferry ride out to Pisa and Siena, and then out to the Carl Vinson to see your daughter if that’s how everything shakes out.”
“Thanks, Carlo! I can’t tell you how much—”
“No, the thanks are on me. Without your help, most of the Italian government would have been stranded in Southern-held territory when the Wall went up. You’ve been a real savior for the Italian people. Maybe the pope will even find a way to make you a saint when this is all over.”
“A saint? The first Jewish saint? Ha! More like a Saint Bernard!” Sam laughed as she clicked off the call to Gavin, stuffing the phone in her purse. But just before she stepped out of the compartment into the narrow passageway outside, she exchanged one last glance with Carlo Rossi. And those ice blue peepers of his that were starting to invade her dreams at night, like a wolf staring hungrily out at her from the dark, just waiting for his chance to pounce—
She shook her head to clear the thought, flashed him one last impish smile, then darted toward the helicopter waiting for her two levels up.
85
Houston
The FBI agent sitting across from Harry in the tiny restaurant looked like a Teutonic version of Gavin Larson, right down to his blonde, close-cropped hair.
“Let’s get something straight between us, Mr. Crawford. First of all, I really shouldn’t be doing this. If word got out that we had met, the best outcome I could hope for would be sharing bunk space with Agent Larson out in Morocco. At worst I’d be thrown right out onto the street without a moment’s notice, blackballed, with no chance of ever landing another job in law enforcement. Even private law enforcement. Understand?”
“Yeah, of course. In fact, I’ve never met you in my life. Don’t even recall your name, Agent …”
“Perfect. All right, here’s the deal.” He fished a small black USB drive out of his coat pocket. “There are four files on this. The first is a refinery cam of the explosion itself. Pretty self-explanatory. The second file is from another camera, time stamped several weeks earlier and on the other end of the refinery, followed by a copy of the official video that was released to the press. The fourth file, that’s a backgrounder on everything that’s happened, for your eyes only. And I’m serious about this. The first three files could have come from anywhere, but the fourth file—if even a hint gets out that you’ve seen it, they’ll know they have a leaker, and when they come looking it will be pretty damn obvious who that leaker is. So, Larson tells me you’re a smart cookie. And I looked you up, and so far you check out on the square, squeaky clean. So I’m risking everything here. Don’t fuck it up, you hear?”
“Uh, right, no chance of that. My lips are sealed. But—tell me, why are you doing this? Why are you risking your entire career helping out someone you don’t even know?”
“I’m not.” The agent stared vacantly off to his right, watching the shop owner take another order from a line that snaked out the front door. “I’m not doing this for you, Mr. Crawford. I’m doing it for America, doing the job I signed up for years ago, not the kind of crap the Agency has turned into, a political swamp no one has any hope of draining. And—I’m doing it for Agent Larson.” He switched his foc
us to his hands, now clasped tightly in front of him. “Thing is, I got into some trouble at Quantico. Nothing all that major, just enough to derail my entire career at the Agency. Larson intervened, and a certain pile of shit disappeared. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But he did it. And I’m here today because of it, because of him. Then, when all that stuff went down in Texas, and two of his best buddies ate a bullet, well, that just sums up everything that’s wrong with the Agency these days. Two field operatives die, somebody has to take the fall for it. If it wasn’t Larson getting the middle finger for all of it, then it would have been his boss. And you know that wasn’t going to happen.” He laughed. “Thing is, there was one good side to all of that. His bitch of a wife left him. After screwing around with probably a third of his so-called friends behind his back for years. Everyone knew it, we just couldn’t find the strength to let him know. But now he’s found himself a real woman, a woman who’s got character, you know? Integrity. And she’s gone missing. Snatched away from him before that little flower that had sprouted between them ever got a chance in hell to bloom. So, you want to know why I’m doing this? I’m doing it because there’s no damn way I could ever say no to that man. He has earned every damn thing, every damn sacrifice I could ever make for him. That’s why.”
He stood up, looking out the window at the parking lot, watching people pile back into their cars with bags stuffed full of breakfast, racing off for their homes and offices before their precious cargo could cool down. “I hope those files do the trick for you, son, I really do. Rag head or not, your client deserves the same kind of treatment from this country as everybody else. And maybe he’ll turn out to be one of the good ones, one of the rag heads that makes a difference and keeps all the others on the right path. All we can do is hope.”
“That’s all I can hope for, as well, truth be told,” Harry told him, standing up to join him at the window. He cleared his throat. “You know, people sometimes ask me what I would do if I had a client I knew was guilty, and still figured out a way to get him off. Would I do it? Would I set him free, maybe give him a chance to do something even worse the next time?”
“And what do you tell them, Mr. Crawford? What’s your answer to those kinds of dilemmas?”
“I tell them the truth, the same truth I learned when I took Advanced Criminal Law back in law school. I tell them that my ultimate client is not a creature of flesh and blood, it’s not the person who wanders into my office plunking down the promise of a future payment I know I may never see, asking me to represent them. My real client is something far more important. It’s the Constitution of the United States. The Constitution that says all men and women are guaranteed a zealous and impassioned criminal defense, regardless of who they are or what they’ve done.”
“Oh, excuse me while I gag over here …”
“Says the man who just turned over evidence that—I’m guessing here—will free my client and prove that the criminal justice system of this country has been illegally conspiring to put an innocent man to death for a crime he didn’t do.”
“You think all that can fit onto one itty-bitty little thumb drive? The future of the free world? The future of America?” He spun away from the window, grabbing his sunglasses off the table and turning to leave. “Well, good luck, Mr. Crawford. If you see Gavin, tell him I said hi.”
“I’ll do that, sir. And—thank you.”
“No problem. Just keep doing your job and everything else will fall into place.”
“Funny. Someone else recently told me that very same thing. Guess I better give it a try.”
Harry waved goodbye as the agent slipped past the line at the door. Looking down, he noticed that the agent had barely touched his bacon and maple donut. “Hey, it would be a real crime to waste that,” he told himself, wrapping up the donut in a paper napkin and heading out the door himself. He couldn’t wait to find out just what was on that itty-bitty little thumb drive.
86
Siena
The long helicopter ride out to Pisa had been deafening if uneventful, but as Gavin climbed aboard Sam was grateful for Rossi’s courtesy in lending it to her. Given the complete anarchy that had characterized Italy over the past twenty-four hours, figuring out how exactly to get from some unknown location in the middle of the Adriatic Sea all the way to Siena would have been a very real and time-consuming challenge. If it was even possible to land at Siena in the first place. Who knows what condition last night’s little street party had left the little airport in? She made a mental note to move her jets and yachts a little further north, where she hoped they would be out of harm’s way for the duration. However long that might be.
The trip from Pisa to Siena was thankfully short. The pilot brought the helicopter down expertly on the lawn just outside the front gates of the castle, the soldiers guarding the grounds around them already moving out to widen their cordon around the area. As the pilot shut down the engines, Sam waved her thanks and jumped out onto the grass, ducking her head to avoid the spinning rotor blades.
She had called ahead while they were still on the ground at Pisa, so the soldiers manning the front door were ready for her and held it open as she and Gavin dashed inside. She could hear the distinctive click of the ancient front door locks falling into place behind her as she sprinted up the stairs toward the guest suite Mehmed was using. Gavin was right on her heels, his laptop computer already out and ready.
Mehmed was sitting up in the bed, sipping a hot cup of chamomile tea when they knocked on his door and quickly entered.
“Sam! Gavin! I was so excited when they told me you were coming.” He paused, and a small bit of shade fell over his eyes. “Is little Maddie okay? Some of the soldiers came and took her and her grandmother away last night—”
“I haven’t seen her yet,” Sam answered, “but I’m told she’s perfectly safe. She’s on a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier far out at sea. About as safe a place to be as anywhere in this world right now, I suppose.” She grabbed a seat on the bed next to his feet. “And how are you doing?”
“The doctors tell me I’m recovering quite nicely, actually. Thank you for asking.” He glanced over at Gavin. “And thanks again for—”
“No need for thanks, good buddy,” Gavin assured him. “You’d have done the same for us, I’m sure. But—did they tell you why we had to pop in on you so suddenly?”
“No, they’ve kept me pretty much in the dark. They even pulled the plug on my TV when the riots broke out last night. I guess they think I’m still pretty fragile.”
Sam laughed. “Then they sure don’t know you like we do, Med. By the way, I checked in on your family. They were all pretty frightened when the plane came down at the Vatican. Worried for you at first, then worried about what was going to happen to everybody, with the world seemingly gearing up for war. Bob Sanders pulled some strings and had them whisked away to the American Embassy in Ankara. With your blessing we’ll bring them all out here to join you.”
Mehmed smiled sadly. “Yes, well, I’m not sure at this point where they’d be safer, here or back in Turkey. The West is not exactly a friendly place for my kind right about now.”
Gavin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Well, we’ll figure this all out somehow, don’t you worry.” He set his laptop down on the bed next to Mehmed. “In the meantime, Sam and I have something we’d like you to look at. It’s an analysis I drew up earlier today, correlating the outbreaks of violence last night to the known locations of the Chi Rho stickers—”
He opened up the laptop and turned it on. The computer was already displaying the map he had created using the data from his spreadsheet.
“As you can see, Mehmed, the blue dots are where your people found the stickers, and the red dots represent everything that happened last night. The bigger the red dot, the greater the amount of lawlessness and chaos.”
Mehmed studied the map for just a few seconds before pointing toward the right side of the screen. “But the red dots
—they seem to end at the Turkish border. Why is that?”
“That’s what we were hoping you could help us out with,” Sam explained. “It seems pretty apparent that the rioting is strongly connected to the stickers. But what we don’t know is why, or why the same thing didn’t happen in Turkey. We were hoping this would give us some kind of clue to hunting down our old friend, William Tulley. And, even more critically at the moment, figuring out where they may have taken Andy Patterson.”
“She’s still missing?” Mehmed asked softly, flicking his eyes toward Gavin.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Gavin answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “And this is pretty much the only thing we have to go on, other than something one of Tulley’s henchmen whispered to me just before he died.”
Mehmed had bent over to study the map more carefully, but now he looked up at Gavin, his eyes narrowing with concern. “And what was that? What did he say?”
“Gavin isn’t exactly sure,” Sam responded. “But when he asked the guy where she was being held, Gavin thinks the answer was ‘she’s grim.’”
Mehmed’s head popped up, surprised. “Göreme? You say she’s in Göreme?”
“What—” Sam was momentarily confused. “No, I said—” And suddenly it all became crystal clear to her.
the rabbit hole
87
Siena - Friday
Sam jumped off the bed, her eyes wild with excitement. “Don’t you see, Gavin? William Tulley’s secret headquarters has to be in Göreme, out on the Cappadocian plains. That’s the only answer that makes any sense!”
Gavin looked at her, then at Mehmed, who was nodding his agreement.
“One of the underground cities—” Mehmed suggested.